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Monday, October 18, 2010

Doppelgangers and Other Detritus

Isn't it funny how, when you're in the thick of a story, you see your characters everywhere? When I was in DC a week ago, one of the speakers at the mental health conference was a shoo-in for my Ben. Same name, same field, same physique, same hair, same age, even the same damn Ivy League institution. Freaky. And then, this weekend in Mount Washington the waitress was a clone of Althea. Pinch me...

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Work is a lot like Survivor these days. Lots of whispering, behind-closed-doors-crud, alliances formed and broken. I just wish I could find the damn immunity idol.

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This weekend my kids and I took a clay class together. I had more fun than the kiddos, and twisting coils and cutting slabs made me realize how much I missed working in this medium. Clay will be part of my 5-year plan.

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I found out I 'won' a beautiful native American flute. Gorgeous creature, made of cedar and walnut. Birthed into this world by KEN LIGHT, a master flute maker. Now I need to learn how to play it. Also part of the 5-year plan.

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I'm assembling a chapbook of short stories and prose poems. Not sure what I'll do with it, but it is mighty satisfying to see the words I've created assembled into a manuscript.

The Writing... A flash a week is about all I can eke out for new stuff. Otherwise, editing and revising through to the end of Brighter than Bright. I am in turns amazed at how good and horrified at how awful various sections read.

MUST READ ==> The chilling story CHARCOAL/VANILLA by Spencer Dew. While you're at the NEW Fall Issue of JMWW, mosey around and read Tim Horvath, Terese Svoboda, Ken Sparling, and all the other great stuff.

A nerve on fire...

Where I Hang

About Me...

By day, I'm an uptight and proper academic - you know, a publish or perish type who resides in tall towers with the likes of Rapunzul. In the evening, I morph into a lovable mom and wife, play with my children, hang with the hubby.
But when darkness falls and the house stills, I write.